Ender
by Konstantine
Summary: "After what happened, she'll only let him see her." SPOILERS through 7.21 (sorry!), S/B
1. Default Chapter

**ENDER**

**Author:** Konstantine (aka Jenni)  
**Spoilers:** Through episode 21. I only have a vague idea of what happens, so everything is my own invention thereafter.  
**Summary:** "After what happened, she'll only let him see her."  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the words I've written. If I could be older and choosy, James Marsters would be mine.  
**A/N:** AU after season 7. Lots of things are implied, while some are explained. Also, I suck majorly at love scenes.  
**Theme songs:** "Ender" by Finch, "Buried Myself Alive" by The Used, "Talk Show Host" by Radiohead, "Colorblind" by the Counting Crows, "Amsterdam" by Coldplay and "Ben Franklin's Kite" by Something Corporate (this song has turned up in every. single. one. of my fics so far, it's a conspiracy!) Yes, I know, a lot of songs for just a little fic, but I like to think of them as my little tone setters. 

  
  
After what happened, she'll only let him see her. 

She moved into an apartment by the beach with the last of her savings, claiming to herself that she wants sunshine and fresh air. But he knows better. He knows that she never steps beyond the security of her house; that the only fresh air she breathes is when she sits on her porch, and stares for hours at her toes. She doesn't frolic on the beach, in the sunshine; she closes all the drapes and sits in the dark living room, crying. When she does this, he wants to sit beside her, hold her, kiss away her pain-but he hasn't touched her yet, not in that way. How can he ever? 

  
  
  
She called two months after she left, when her friends were starting to lose hope of ever finding her again. She asked to speak with him, and he was surprised that she knew he would be there. 

"I only want you to come," she told him. "Don't tell them where I am." 

"We're worried about you. I'm sure they'd like to see you." He could barely form sentences he was so overcome with joy that she was alive. 

"I can't see them. Please, Spike. I need you." 

The phone was back on the hook, because her words were the only thing that mattered. If Buffy ever needed him, then by God, he'd be needed. 

As his motorcycle got closer to its destination, he could smell her in the air. Somehow, he couldn't find time to use the kickstand, and jumped off the seat running. He completely missed the front steps but somehow found himself at the door, drumming his knuckles against the peeling, blue paint. 

She opened the door tentatively, he remembers. Peeking through the crack he saw Buffy's green eyes, looking at him helplessly. 

She sniffled a bit. "Come in." 

And that's all it took to let him into her life again. 

She left the door and walked back to the couch she'd been curled up on. As he slowly made his way over to her, he recognized it to be the couch that had been missing from her mother's house ever since Buffy disappeared. 

"What happened?" He asked, quietly. 

"I couldn't save them," she whispered. "So many girls..." 

"Buffy...what happened to them wasn't your fault. Nothing was your fault." 

She shook her head, a hysterical laugh escaping her lips for the briefest of moments. "I couldn't protect them. I wasn't there to protect them." 

"You tried your best. Everyone did. You saved the world, Buffy. Doesn't that count for something?" Her name sounded so good on his lips. 

"No. There are so many things...I hurt you. I hurt you so bad." 

He couldn't look at her, then. Instead, he relived the moment he saw her lips against Angel's, and then hours later, when he told her that after the battle he was leaving for good. That he didn't care if she wasn't ready for him to not be there-if she couldn't say what he needed to hear, it didn't matter what she wanted from him. It would never be enough. 

_ He slips through the house unnoticed, but when he reaches her room she can already feel him. But even then she keeps her back turned to him, preparing her weapons for the inevitable end. He knows he has to initiate the conversation. _

"I just...after the battle, after this is over, I'm leaving, Buffy." His tone is dead serious, and this causes her to drop a sword and stare at him dumbly. 

"I'm not going to be needed here soon, and that's fine with me. I have to...get on with my un-life." 

She looks confused, he can tell because a crease appears between her eyebrows. "But...you can't just **leave.**" 

"As a matter of fact I can, and I'm going to." He doesn't have the patience to be considerate; she's toyed with him and it makes him sick. 

"No, you're not. I...**need** you here, Spike." 

"You need me for the muscle, I get it, but not for anything else. I'm not going to stay here when my feelings aren't worth a bloody thing." He's keeping calm, and he thinks this will make it easier. 

"What do you mean..." She sounds utterly bewildered. 

"I mean **Angel**, Buffy. You know how I feel about you, and I've yet to get a straight answer about your feelings. Until tonight." 

"How did you...it's not like I **planned** it..." 

"It doesn't matter. I've deluded myself long enough. You. Don't. Love. Me. You never will. I'll always love you, Buffy, but if those feelings...I can't live like this. If you can't truthfully tell me that you love me, then I'm leaving. For good." 

The way tears are running down her face makes him want to believe that the feelings are there, but he won't allow himself to hope against hope any longer. He gives her three minutes, and when she doesn't say anything he slips back out the door. He WILL NOT CRY in front of her, or anybody else. Not over this. 

"I screwed things up so bad," she glanced at him. "How can you even look at me? How will any of them ever forgive me?" 

"Buffy, they already have. If you'd just come home and see..." 

Her eyes got wide then and she stared straight ahead, swallowing a lump in her throat. "Maybe you should go." 

"Go? How can I go when you're like this? How can I ever leave you again?" 

"Remember how I hurt you. Remember how I kissed Angel. Remember how stupid and weak I am." She gave him a long, sad look before retreating into the back of the apartment, further into the shadows of her mistakes. 

Now he comes everyday, afraid that she'll disappear again. 

  
  
  
This time she's in the corner of her bedroom when he comes. Her hair is greasier than yesterday, and tear tracks glint down her cheeks. 

"I broke the window," she says, nodding to the shards of glass littering the floor. "I don't know how to get around the broken parts." 

He crunches over them with his boots, and squats in front of her. "Are you hurt?" 

"Not as much as they are." She singsongs. 

"Come on, I'll get you cleaned up." He touches her elbow, and she stands with him. 

She has one foot rubbing the other, and looks perplexed in nothing but underwear and a tank top. "How did...?" 

"It's all right, come on." He picks her up and she drapes both arms around his neck. Her ankles cross protectively over his arm, and he carries her like a child to the bathroom. 

Once there, he seats her on the closed toilet lid and starts the bath. He has a bad sense of hot and cool, but fills it at what he thinks is right. He stops the faucet and holds his hand out to her. She trusts him blindly and moves to him. When she's at his side he lifts her into the tub without taking off her minimal clothes, and gently rinses her hair with palm fills of water. When he's working shampoo in, she speaks. 

"When did this happen?" 

"When did..." 

"You taking care of me. I thought it was the other way around." 

"We take care of each other as we need it, Buffy. I needed you before, and now you need me." 

She doesn't question him again. Instead, she stares at his eyes. She's never taken the time to properly examine them, and now she sees the wealth they hold. They show flecks of brown when he's frustrated, but shine a dazzling cerulean otherwise. At times, they gloss over with unshed tears that get blinked away. But the main thing she notices is that he won't look her in the eye. No matter how long she stares at him he pretends he doesn't notice. 

After he drains the water, he goes looking for a towel. When he comes up empty, he brings back a bed sheet and asks her to stand. She obeys, and he wraps the sheet around her. He shows her the pile of clothes he found, and tells her to change in the bathroom while he cleans up the glass in her bedroom. 

He doesn't close the door, knowing it would scare her, so he takes as much time as he can sweeping up the bits of window. He doesn't dare leave the room until she stands in the doorway, presenting her newly clean self. It hurts him to notice the way her pants sag at the hips, and how her shirt clings loosely to her shoulders. 

"Time to eat." He says, checking to make sure the cardboard he taped over the window is secure. 

She has no food in the house, so he orders a pizza. By the time she finishes eating, he has to leave. 

"Sunrise is coming soon, have to be off if I want to make it back to Sunnydale before turning into a pile of dust." 

"Mr. and Mrs. Big Pile of Dust." She says, bringing a smile to his eyes. 

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**ENDER (part 2)**

_"You said you like to hear the rain sometimes.  
And all I can do is tell you the truth.  
And oh, my eyes will tell you the same."  
  
-Ender, by Finch_   
  
  
Their meetings are like that for weeks. Then, by some strange force, she is able to bathe herself; to remember to ask him to bring food to stock the refrigerator with. He hopes that maybe some day she'll leave the house. 

Right now, they're sitting in the back of her wraparound porch, listening to the sound of waves breaking the silence of the evening. 

"Xander and Willow would like to see you," he says, half-afraid of what her answer might be. "They really miss you, Buffy. They're worried." 

"Does Xander still have one eye? Are Anya and Kennedy still dead?" 

He gulps and nods a "yes". 

"Then I can't see them. The pain in their eyes...I can't see them." 

"What about...the pain in my eyes?" He asks, already regretting how stupid it sounds. 

She looks at him with a mocking grin. "I don't see it. You're too strong to let it show," she goes back to looking at her toes. "And I know you won't judge me. You don't judge someone you love, do you?" 

It's rhetorical and he's silent for a long time, counting the stars he can see from his position underneath the awning. 

"Your friends love you...they don't judge you." He says. 

"It's a different kind of love. Maybe they don't judge me, but they do blame me. Even if the blame is hidden deep down, so even they don't know. But they blame me." 

"We were all in that fight, Buffy," he's getting angry now. "As much as you and I would like to believe that the Slayer is alone, you're wrong. If anything, you've grown stronger through your connections to life. If you want proof, just look at how weak you are now." 

She's shocked at his allegations, his deliberateness. "I think maybe you should go now. I'll see you tomorrow." 

"No, that's not how it works. I'm not like the other men in your life, I don't leave when things get tough." 

"You told me you were going to leave after the battle...but I drove you to that, didn't I? Can you forgive me for that?" 

"Everyone makes mistakes." 

"My mistakes destroy everything good left in my life." 

"If it's any consolation, I'm still here for you, when you need me. You know that." 

"But I destroyed you. Please admit to that." 

"You destroyed me, sure. But it wasn't permanent. I'm no longer destroyed, you are. You need help that I can't give to you." 

"Can you try?" Her eyes are welling up-she doesn't want to be like this anymore, hiding behind her errors. She wants to be strong again, like him. 

"I want to more than anything..." 

She knows that he can try his hardest, but she'll never be the way she was if she doesn't fix it herself. She can't rely on others to patch up her mistakes. 

  
  
  
_ "So you're...really going." She's standing at the bottom of the basement stairs, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes disbelieving. _

He pauses in his packing. "I'm a man of my word." 

"You once told me you were going to kill me. You didn't keep that word." She's searching for anything, anything but the truth. 

"Whatever. I'm going. I told you before..." 

"I know, it's just...what am I going to do without you here?" 

"Get another job, win the Nobel Peace Prize, shag Angel, it's really your prerogative." He's not going to sugarcoat it for her. She doesn't deserve that from him. 

"Please...don't go." She approaches him, getting dangerously closer with each step. 

He zips up the duffel he took from one of the dead Potentials and throws it over his shoulder, pushing past her. With unmatched strength her fist closes around his bicep, and she makes him face her. This is probably not a good idea, because her tears are weakening her resolve and their faces are so close he can feel each exhale on his skin. 

"Where will you go?" 

"I've got connections all over. I'll find some place." 

She nods, then shocks him by pressing her lips against his. The kiss is desperate, and she holds his face to hers until the sobs choking out of her throat interrupt it. 

"But you don't love me." He states sadly, mournfully. What he's sure is factually. 

She shakes her head, trying to speak through her sorrow. "I-I don't k-know!" Her body shakes with sadness, but he refuses to let it weaken him. 

"What you did...kissing Angel...all I do in this bleeding town is wait around for the next time I'm going to get hurt. It's **unbearable**." 

She rushes his lips again, trying to silence the truth. He gives in this time, and lets his tears melt into hers as they desperately try to hang on to a lie. But they're shaking so much that they can't keep the kiss steady, and he breaks it off. 

"But you. Don't. Love. Me." He whispers sadly, bending to retrieve the duffel that fell off his shoulder. He leaves without another word, ascending the stairs in what seems like slow motion to her-each step a lost chance to tell him the truth. 

Dawn finds her and hour later; standing in the middle of the basement, holding her stomach and weeping. 

A week later Xander contacts him to tell her that she's gone missing. 

  
  
  
The next night, while rain thunders along the coast, she asks about Dawn. 

"How is she? I mean...is she, you know, mad?" 

"She doesn't understand why you don't want to see her," he admits. "She needs her sister, Buffy." 

"I remember that long ago I told her to be strong, to live. For me," she looks into Spike's eyes, pleading. "Why can't I follow my own advice?" 

"Because it's easier said than done," he sighs. "Because you need to stop blaming yourself for what happened to the Potentials. It was beyond your power." 

She nods, maybe accepting it. "But still...they all looked up to me, they expected me to save them, and I let them down. And did you see all the blood? There was so much blood..." 

"Luv, please..." 

She suddenly turns to him, holding him by the shoulders. "You weren't there. You were underneath...from beneath you it devours. Devoured. And I **let you go**." 

"I'm here now, aren't I?" 

"But there's still the chance that you wouldn't survive, and I let you go. No wonder you left." 

He sheds himself of her grip and leans forward, a breath away from her face. "It was **my** decision. You tried to stop me, remember? I wouldn't have gone in if I didn't want to, and that's that." He slumps back in his chair, and watches as the rain cascades out of the sky. 

  
  
  
_ His motorcycle plows through the humid air towards Sunnydale. The moon above illuminates his silvery hair, reducing him to a flash of light on the desert road. A small burst of wind kicks dust into the street, and the world smells like summer after it rains. _

He careens onto the exit ramp, and resists the temptation to demolish the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign as he flies past it. One thought drills through his brain. "Buffybuffybuffy." He can't help but realize it's all his fault--if he hadn't have left her... 

He smells the wind desperately for any trace of her, and it kills him to come up empty. Revello drive is only two minutes away. 

Buffybuffybuffybuffybuffybuffybuffybuffy... 

  
  
  
Even though it's pouring outside and riding the motorcycle doesn't make it any dryer, he comes to her the again. He's surprised to find her already situated on the porch, staring out at the ocean. He slides with cat-like grace into the vacant chair beside her, and they both savor the sound of rain drumming against the roof. 

"Do you want to know what happened with Angel?" She asks, suddenly. 

He gulps, positive he doesn't. 

"I was a fool. I thought...that even with everything I was feeling I could wipe it all away, retreat into the past. Even then I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway. Sometimes I just..." she can't find the words. "Why do I always screw things up so bad? After everything between you and me...after everything I was feeling--am feeling--how could I hurt you like that?" 

"It...it wasn't just that Buffy. I should've been braced for it. Just that day you told me that what happened, with the night before...that it didn't mean anything." 

_ A night of peaceful embrace nothing more too it just wanna hold her, make her safe, teach her how strong she is gotta know how strong she is have to give her the power to finish this fight she can't give up now. She can't give up now but she's gone the next morning and all he has is a note a fucking note and now he's bearing his heart and soul to her, telling her how much it meant, how much he loves her and all she can give is a blank stare, an indecisive remark. He should've seen it coming. _

"But that's just it. It **did** mean something--it meant everything. You gave me the will to go on. You kept me alive...and it wasn't the first or the last time you did that for me. And then I knew...everything was so clear and precise and I just **knew**...but how could I tell you? Even when you were asking me point blank, I couldn't form the words. And then you were gone." 

"What...what words?" 

"The 'I love you' ones. Those words." 

He's flabbergasted and she thinks his silence is her cue to get up and walk inside. Maybe do the dishes. 

A minute later he's crashing through the porch door, halfway between bewildered and overjoyed. "You **love me**? Really love me? How could you...how could you not know that that's all I've ever wanted to hear?" 

"Yes, I really love you. I love you I love you I love you. But it's too late now, isn't it?" She yells, trying to wash a dish. "'You always hurt the one you love.' I hurt you, and I didn't do a thing to stop it. I was too **weak** and--and scared to tell you, and now everything's destroyed. You couldn't possibly love me the way you used to. Look me in the eye, and tell me that you've never once thought about how easy it would be if you stopped loving me. How much simpler things would be." 

He looks at his shoes, unable to meet her gaze. That's all she needs. 

"Just...leave. You've made me strong again, and I thank you for that. I can live on my own now." 

He nods, scared to say anything else-scared to leave and let go of her forever. She pretends to wash dishes as he softly makes his way out the door. Not until she hears the sound of the bike's engine roaring away does she allow herself to weep. 

Ten minutes later she knows she's not alone and drops the dish in her hands. She turns and sees him standing there, sopping wet from the downpour outside. 

"Why are you-" She begins, but he's already leapt into talking. 

"Yeah, okay, so life would be easier not loving you. But I don't want the easy life, is that so hard to comprehend? Why do you think I've stuck by your side for so long? For the pain? God help me, Buffy, I'll love you no matter what. Deal with it." 

She can't speak, but realizes she won't have to when he closes the space between them and kisses her. He takes her in his arms, cradling her back as her hands explore the planes of his face. They break the kiss off with a gentle touching of lips; they close their eyes and breathe each other in, rocking slowly back and forth in an imaginary dance step. 

"How can you love me?" He asks, stroking her hair. 

"How can I not? You brought me back to life. But I loved you before that," she whispers into his neck. "Long before that. How can you still love me?" 

"You're an extraordinary woman," he whispers, echoing words he spoke only months before. "You're my light. You're my soul. You're my everything. I'm so sorry I left you." 

"Don't ever be sorry for the things that make us stronger." 

They spend the night in soft kisses and caresses, a night of gentle skin on skin. They show each other what their love means, how much they care for one another. How much they need one another. The next day, just as the sun passes over the horizon, it's decided that she'll go back with him to Sunnydale. 

  
  
  
She clutches his hand and extends a slender finger to ring the doorbell. After it's sounded she turns to him, searching his face. 

"What will they do?" She whispers. 

"They'll hug you. They'll drown you in their love." He states confidently. 

She lets out a shaky breath and the door opens. At first, Dawn looks perplexed, and Buffy's scared. But as tears spread down Dawn's face and she steps onto the porch to hug her sister, a breeze breaks the summer heat and somehow she knows everything's going to be all right. 

**THE END**


End file.
